


And lead us to salvation

by Richefic



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Unashamedly Milathos because Athos deserves to be happy, spoilers season 2 episode 9 and 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Richefic/pseuds/Richefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“By all means,” Athos countered dryly, as he peered around the pillar, to check that the corridor was clear. “The Queen is in mortal danger. You are still a condemned man. We are all about to commit treason by storming the Palace. Our presence might be discovered at any moment. It’s the perfect time for a chat.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	And lead us to salvation

**Author's Note:**

> I have been struggling with “Finding Athos” – mostly because a large part of what I planned to write has now been somewhat overtaken by events. I may still return to it in a slightly different way using the POV of each of our boys, but in the meantime, there is – well this.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aramis enquired, as they both took refuge behind a large stone pillar.

Startled, Athos bit back a sudden and highly inappropriate urge, to laugh, the feeling of mirth building in his chest and bubbling up his throat, taking him quite by surprise. He had not missed the concerned looks that had passed among his friends, as he had taken his leave of Anne, formally pressing his lips to her glove, before escorting Vargas to the Palace to confront the King with Rochefort’s crimes. But only Aramis would chose a moment like _this_ to broach such a sensitive matter.

It had been a long time since he had felt the urge to laugh at anything at all. Weighed down with grief and pain it had initially seemed like too great an indulgence. As time passed he had sometimes allowed himself a wry amusement at the eccentricities of his brothers. A trait that Aramis and Porthos had both gleefully seized upon and outrageously exploited until he found himself smiling more often than he had ever thought possible.

But in the last six years he could not recall a time he had ever actually laughed.

“By all means,” Athos countered dryly, as he peered around the pillar, to check that the corridor was clear. “The Queen is in mortal danger. You are still a condemned man. We are all about to commit treason by storming the Palace. Our presence might be discovered at any moment. It’s the perfect time for a chat.”

 “ _Athos_.”

Aramis placed his hand on Athos’ neck in such a familiar gesture of comfort, that it caused him to catch his breath. The wash of joy he had felt when he found Aramis standing on the doorstep  of their temporary headquarters had made him almost weak with relief, the brief, but heartfelt, kiss with which he had greeted him saying everything that he could not give voice to, as he was forced to swallow hard around the lump in his throat.

“Porthos has Vargas well in hand, with Constance’s more than able assistance. Treville and d’Artagnan will need to make it around to the South gate before they can set off the diversion. We have a few minutes.” Aramis refused to be put off.

“I don’t know where to start.” Athos admitted.

He was not at all sure _he_ understood what he was feeling. Much less that he could find the words to tell anyone else. But predictably the fact that he had not refused outright was all the encouragement Aramis needed to pursue the topic.

“Just say what is in your heart.”

“Ever since she reappeared in my life I have told myself that I cannot forget who she is and what she did,” Athos spoke quietly. “Her hands were stained with my brother’s blood. How could any right feeling man ever forgive such a travesty?”

“But it does not seem so simple now?” Aramis suggested.

Athos turned his head to look at him, tears standing in his eyes, as he raised a hand and reached out to cup his cheek. Wordlessly, Aramis covered Athos’ hand with his own, suspecting he knew where this was heading.

“She risked herself to rescue you and in so doing she has given me back a brother I feared lost,” Athos was forced to take a steadying breath, Aramis squeezed his hand in silent support. “The bible speaks of justice when it talks of taking a life for a life. What greater store must be set by repaying the taking of one life by the saving of another?”  

“According to what Porthos told me, she offered her assistance willingly and without any expectation of reward,” Aramis offered, leaning forward to touch his forehead against Athos’. “She even told me I was ‘very welcome’ for my rescue. Perhaps, in saving me she was also trying to save herself.”

Athos pulled back slightly so he could give his brother an assessing look. He was too familiar with Aramis’ way with words not to realise that his choice of phrasing, reflecting Athos’ own sentiment when he had chosen to spare Anne’s life, was quite deliberate.

“I have not yet had time to tell anyone else this,” Athos confessed. “But Catherine followed us to Paris. She was armed with my brother’s pistols and rather intent on finishing what I started.”

“Clearly she didn’t succeed.” Aramis observed. “I’m guessing that was down to you.”

“When I arrived at the rendezvous Catherine was already there,” Athos recalled his eyes dark and distant. “She was holding Anne at gunpoint and she had prepared a noose. She implied that Anne’s death was the only possible consolation for the agony and humiliation she had suffered at her hands. I imagine because, firstly I had chosen Anne over her and secondly, due to the fact that any hopes she had of making respectable match were ended with Thomas’ death.”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Aramis observed, trying hard not to think of Marguerite.

“Indeed,” Athos agreed wryly. “Although, I doubt Catherine ever truly cared for me beyond what I could offer her in terms of wealth and status. It was only her pride that suffered when she was matched with Thomas.”

Aramis wasn’t so sure of that. Athos was a good man, with a kind heart. He had no doubt that he had been a loving and considerate husband. In the higher echelons of the nobility, where alliances were made on the basis of bringing together money and power, any woman would have been fortunate indeed to find themselves engaged to such a man.

He frowned, his brow wrinkling with a sudden thought.

“How long were Thomas and Anne betrothed? I presume you and Anne courted for a while. And you were married for what, something over a year? It never seemed strange to you that in all that time the two of them never cemented their union. Especially given Catherine’s preoccupation with status?” 

Athos blinked.

“I never thought much about it,” He said slowly. “Anne and I had the world at our feet. We expected to be blessed with children. Thomas always professed that he was still too young to be tied down and there seemed no reason to insist.”

“No doubt Catherine would take a more jaded view of his priorities,” Aramis suggested. “Especially, given how things turned out for her.”

Very slowly Athos straightened up, his expression grave, as he considered Aramis’ words. His memories of that dreadful time were both sharp with grief and muddled by despair. He clearly remembered Anne’s wide eyes and her plaintive words.

“ _You have to help me get out of this. You have to believe me.”_

Now he also recalled Catherine’s sharp tone and how quick she had been to condemn a woman whom she had lived with, as if they were sisters.

_“Quiet, we’re sick of your lies.”_

He closed his eyes briefly. What if Thomas had not grown into the man Athos wanted to remember him as? He had always been the type to strive to satisfy his many appetites, for good food, fine wine, a lavish wardrobe, the thrill of the gaming table or the lure of congenial company. If he had compared Anne’s wit and passion with his own intended bride and found Catherine wanting ..

“Athos,” Somehow Aramis’ hand had slipped under his shirt to press, warm and _hard_ against his sternum. His face so close that Athos could feel the warmth of his words on his cheek. _“Breathe. Come on, Athos, breathe!”_  

Surprised to realise that he had indeed stopped; Athos sucked in a ragged breath, which whistled harshly through his windpipe.

“Thank God,” Relieved beyond measure Aramis bundled him in a loose embrace, resting his chin on the dark curls as he held him close. “Forgive me, you’re right. This isn’t the time for this.”

But now that the floodgates were open Athos did not think he could have stemmed the flow of words if his life had depended on it.

“I waited to see what she would say. In that moment, hovering between life and death, when there is nothing but you and God,” Eyes wide and staring Athos clutched tightly at Aramis’ jacket. “I needed to know if she would gloat of her crimes. Instead, she insisted that she had spoken only the truth. That Thomas had tried to force himself on her and that if ever a man deserved to die it was him.”

“Oh, _Athos_.”

 Aramis instinctively tightened his embrace. Knowing all too well the burden of grief and guilt Athos had carried over Thomas’ death and what new tortures he would put himself through, if it proved that his beloved wife had, in fact, been grievously wronged.

“I saved her from the noose,” Athos reported tonelessly. “I pulled her back from the abyss and held her in my arms, just as I had wished to do all those years ago.”

“And in that act of salvation, perhaps you can also find your peace,” Aramis offered gently. “There is a reason that justice is seen as a set of balances. Without wrongdoing there can be no forgiveness and a world without forgiveness would be a hard place indeed. Even if you were misguided in ordering her death them you have repaid that debt twice over now by sparing her life.”

“Sparing her to live in what manner though?” Athos castigated himself. “When I challenged Anne over her allegiance to the Cardinal, she said that she had nothing else to live for. She had only become the woman that I had believed her to be. She is what I made her. Even when I believed I was being merciful by banishing her from Paris, she had no recourse but to fall in with slavers.”

Silently, Aramis pulled off his glove and used the pad of his thumb to gently wipe a tear from Athos’ cheek.

“When I made my marriage vows I meant each and every word,” Athos looked up at Aramis, his expression almost pleading to be believed. “I gave her _everything_ I was. So, that without her there was nothing left of the Comte de la Fere. He died that day as surely as if she had aimed a pistol through my heart.”

“But Athos is still here,” Aramis counselled fondly. “And he a good man, who deserves to be happy. If you can put your past behind you and find a new purpose to life then perhaps she also can make a fresh start?”      

“I asked her if she still maintained that Thomas tried to rape her. She looked me straight in the eye and asked why she would lie about it. At the time, I believed that she had told nothing but lies who she was, where she had come from, her previous crimes. What would one more lie have been layered on top of so many others?”

He paused. And spoke in a tone of utter despondency.

“Nothing at all; except the difference between life and hope, death and despair, for both of us.”

He took a ragged breath and needed a moment to compose himself.

“Catherine asked me what I thought was Anne’s real crime in my eyes, murdering Thomas, or deceiving me.”

“There’s no question. You would always forgive those you love any crime against your own person. Your capacity for friendship and loyalty has always outweighed your sense of self-preservation,” Aramis regarded him fondly, remembering how swift Athos had been to forgive his indiscretion with the Queen, despite the danger it had placed him in. “It has always been something of a failing of yours.”

“Is that so,?” Athos’ lips quirked, knowing exactly what Aramis was referring to. “Are you forgetting the part where I told Treville I would have shot you?”

“Except you did not,” Aramis took his hand and raised it to his lips, kissing his knuckles fondly, not letting go of his hand as he continued. “Even when we do not deserve forgiveness, because we cannot repent of our sins, your love is steadfast. When it is an injury against yourself you have a disturbing tendency to think is all too well deserved.”

“There’s more.” Athos’ head hung.

“Of course there is,” Aramis murmured wrapping his arm consolingly around Athos’ drooping shoulders. “Isn’t there always?”

“When we were in Rochefort’s office searching the papers, there was a risk of being discovered. Anne knew of a secret cabinet used by the Cardinal. A small room conceal in a bookcase.” Athos blushed, a flush rising up his neck, quite beyond his control.

“I see. I take it this was a very small room? The two of you forced together in close proximity?” Aramis murmured.

“Yes.”

“And you kissed?”

“Yes.”

“And did you ..?” With consummate tact and delicacy Aramis left the enquiry unspoken.

“No, there was no time, we had a mission to fulfil, your life, the Queen’s safety and the fate of France were all at stake,” Athos shook his head fiercely. Then his brain caught up to what his heart had admitted and his blush deepened at the implication that he would have laid with her if circumstance or his conscience had allowed. But he met his brother’s gaze almost defiantly. “God help me, Aramis, if I were free to choose, I would still choose her above all other women.”

“D’Artagnan said that she asked you to go away her.” Aramis said gently.

“So he did hear that. I had wondered,” Athos sighed. “Did he also say that she professed to wanting a better life. Not the foul and ugly thing that I had wrought when I turned my back on her, but a return to hope?”

“He merely mentioned that she spoke of taking a ship from Le Harve to England,” Aramis allowed. “Together.”

“It rains a great deal in England,” Athos pressed his lips together. “And the food is intolerable. It would be madness to think we could find happiness in such a grey, dull, little land.”

“And yet,” Aramis leant back against the wall and slide his eyes sideways to meet Athos gaze, more than a hint of mischief in his expression. “There has always been a touch of the lunatic in your heart. Would you consider it?”

“Going to England?” Athos raised a brow. “No. I could never bear the food ...”

He waited a beat and then, without a glance, they finished in chorus.

“Or the weather.”

“Indeed,” A fleeting smile crossed Athos face, before he sobered. “I owe my duty to the Crown, my salvation to Treville and my love and loyalty to the Musketeers. I could never leave France.”

“But ..? Aramis nudged him, offering an encouraging grin.

“Perhaps, given the chance, I might persuade her that we could try to make something of a life together here,” Hesitantly, he raised his eyes to meet Aramis, his expression a mix of shy and determined. “There would be gossip, of course.  Her liaison with the King did not exactly go un-noticed. But I think I could bear that if I might count on the blessing of my friends?”

Looking up, at a slight, scuffing, sound, he was not entirely surprised to see Porthos stepping out of the shadows, after a moment followed by d’Artagnan holding Constance’s hand, and Treville standing a little to their right, with Vargas at his shoulder.

“I presume you all heard most of that?” He sighed.

At their collective nods, he lifted his chin bravely, not missing the ridiculously fond look that passed between Porthos and Aramis at his courage. Nor the proud smile on Treville’s face. The flash of emotions that crossed d’Artagnan’s face was harder to read.

“At least it saves me the trouble of repeating myself.” He looked at Aramis.

“You have my blessing,” Aramis assured him, at once. “For what it’s worth, Anne seemed sincere to me in her desire to choose a more worthy path. Over these past few weeks I could see why you found it so hard to let her go. Few women would have her wit and courage to be your equal.”

“Thank you, old friend.” Athos gave him a grateful look.

“I ain’t one to judge a person for the sins of their past,” Porthos spoke up. “I know what it’s like to do things I weren’t so proud of in order to survive. Things are all the harder for a woman on her own. That’s just the way it is. If your Anne truly wants to live a better life, then I wish you both well.”

“You have always been the best of men.” Athos acknowledged.

“But God help me,” Porthos looked him in the eye. “If she hurts you again. I’ll kill her myself.”

“I would expect no less,” Athos smiled fondly at his brother’s protective nature, before he unconsciously straightened, as he turned to his commanding officer. “Captain?”

“I’ve always trusted your judgment,” Treville acknowledged. “This choice isn’t without risk, but then nothing worth having ever has been. Your Anne might still have been enjoying the King’s favour if she hadn’t chosen to throw her lot in with us. In this case, playing it safe might only cause more heartache to you both. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, sir.” Athos inclined his head respectfully.

Catching d’Artagnan’s eye he saw the indecision warring across his face and decided to pass over him for the moment.

“Constance,” He looked at the young woman, whom he had no doubt would shortly be his sister-in-law in all the ways that actually mattered. “I have not forgotten how Anne wronged you. I do not ask you to forgive her. I only wish to know if you can find in your heart to forgive me for my weakness in not being able to cast her off.”

“Athos,” Constance stepped forward and took one of his hands in hers, whilst placing the other on his cheek. “You have always been a friend to me. Out of the goodness of your heart you encouraged the regiment to bring my husband business so we might prosper, without ever mentioning that you yourself always paid me in coin for every piece I sewed for you, so that I always had an independent income.”

“It was no more than you deserved. No woman should be kept in servitude merely by dint of her gender,” Athos demurred. Then he smiled. “And my shirts were the envy of the Regiment. Aramis was quite beside himself at the quality of the workmanship.” 

“And it is no more than you deserve than to be happy,” Constance smiled back. “It was not an easy lesson to learn but now I know I would rather risk everything for what I truly want than live half a life. If your Anne can bring you even a fraction of the joy that I have found then I gladly give you my blessing. Any woman you love so deeply cannot be entirely bad.”  

Finding himself utterly speechless at her magnanimous attitude Athos merely inclined his head silently, before turning his gaze, dark and serious on d’Artagnan. He knew the young Gascon was the one most likely to object. In the aftermath of everything, d’Artagnan had sworn, _on his father’s grave,_ that he had put the whole business with Milady behind him. But in recent weeks his continued resentment at her hold over him had been all too plain to see.

The grace he had shown when Athos had first spared Milady’s life, in the wake of Constance’s kidnapping had been worn increasingly thin by his mentor’s inability to move on. The fact that Athos’ understood that his protégé’s attitude stemmed from a mixture of hurt pride at the way Anne had played him and a desire to protect him from himself, did not change the fact that d’Artagnan had more reason than anyone to detest the idea of him reconciling with his wife.   

“She said herself that you two have no reason in the world left to trust each other,” d’Artagnan reminded him levelly. “How do you know she isn’t just playing you for a fool? You might not choose to use your title but you’re not exactly short of cash. That has to be a temptation to any woman with no prospects.”

“The same woman, who forced by my hand, to throw her lot in with slavers, still had the wherewithal to save your life and become the King’s mistress?” Athos replied without heat. “The same woman who, when dismissed from the Palace for helping us, threw my charity back in my face when I offered her every last sous I possessed?”

“She killed your brother.” D’Artagnan said calmly.

“It appears she might have been wronged,” Athos fixed d’Artagnan with a look. “And she saved Aramis.”

“Ask yourself this,” Aramis stepped forward and tipped his head on one side. “If dear Constance here, had been driven to trust a poniard through the controlling heart of that husband of hers, could you have stopped loving her just because society called her a murderess?”

“Milady became the Cardinal’s creature.” D’Artagnan retorted. “Her crimes were not merely crimes of passion, but cold blooded murder.”

“However distasteful, she worked in the service of France. Each of us are equally guilty of that,” Treville pointed out. “It is simply a matter of perspective.”

“Perspective?” d’Artagnan raised a brow, in a perfect imitation of Athos himself.

“I can recall a number of occasions when your life was in her hands,” Athos observed blandly. “Am I supposed to regret the fact that you still live?”

“She is nothing but a thief and a liar.”

“So, was I once upon a time, until I decided to better myself,” Porthos put in dangerously. “You want to make something of that?”

“So,” D’Artagnan stepped forward and regarded him mentor with a mixture of respect, fondness and amusement. “You really have thought this through.”

“I cannot give you my word that she will never make trouble for us again,” Athos spoke seriously. “She is not a woman made for an ordinary life.”

“But you will never know peace without her by your side,” d’Artagnan cast a fond look at Constance. “If this last year has taught me nothing else, I have learned that true love is no fairy tale. If you have the courage to risk your heart again then who am I to stand in your way?” He paused. “Just be careful? Please? Anne is not the only one who loves you.”

“I will,” Athos nodded, touched by the younger man’s obvious concern for his welfare. Stepping forward he offered his hand, a gesture of respect between equals. “Thank you.”

D’Artagnan looked heavenwards for a moment, blinking back his own tears of pride and gratitude, before he stepped forward and took Athos’ hand in his own.

“Now that’s all settled,” d’Artagnan looked around at the assembled company. “I believe we have a Queen to rescue and a very slithery opponent to despatch.”

“You’re making ‘im sound like a snake,” Porthos pointed out, as he put his hat firmly on his head and herded Vargas forward. “Rochefort’s’s a right villain but he ain’t an actual snake.”

“I’m with d’Artagnan,” Athos decided, as he fell into step beside his protégé, placing a guiding hand on his back as they made their way down the corridor. “The man is an actual snake.”

“Well then,” Aramis smiled thinly. “It will be my great pleasure to force him into a corner and then gut his innards.”

“What?” d’Artagnan murmured, as he felt Athos tense beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Athos shook his head. “Rochefort deserves to die for his crimes, of course. It’s just I had hoped France would be safer with the Cardinal dead. And look where that got us. I suppose now I can’t help but wonder what will happen once Rochefort is gone.”

“Perhaps for once the government will pass into the hands of someone who truly has France’s best interests at heart.” The Gascon offered.

“D’Artagnan,” Athos stopped dead, putting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and looking him straight in the eye, to ensure he had his full attention. “One thing you must learn about court politics is that anyone who actually wants to be a minister of the Crown should never be allowed to become one. Such self-serving ambition can never lead to anything but trouble.”

“Amen to that,” Treville agreed as he marched past them. “Now can we please get on with this?”

“Spoken like a true Musketeer.” Porthos observed.

“Treville is a natural leader.” Aramis acknowledged.

“The King offered him the Cardinal’s role once before,” d’Artagnan recalled. “Once Rochefort is gone there will be an obvious vacancy.”

“Treville refused the King once before. He will do so again. He knows that there is no other man the regiment will serve with such unswerving loyalty,” Athos paused at the weighted look which passed between his three brothers. “What?”

“Nothing.” D’Artagnan said a little too quickly.

“At least,” Porthos muttered once he was quite sure Athos was out of earshot. “Not just yet, but soon.”


End file.
